The Temp (20 page)

44

Beep…
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep

“Mmm,” Eve wanted to roll over and shut out that incessant noise. She hated noise when she slept, absolute silence was key. She wasn’t a deep sleeper and she couldn’t handle it. “Will somebody turn it off?” her throat was raw. Her eyes could hardly open, visions blurred. Was she still drunk?

“They can’t turn it off Eve,” the voice was familiar.

“Turn it off,” the beeping sped up.

“How else would they know if you’re heart was still beating?” his voice was so delicate she had to be dreaming. She’d never heard it so vulnerable, so ready to lose everything. 

“Am I in heaven?”

There was a feint laugh. “Heaven is not a place Dorian Gray gets to go.”

“Roman?” her pupils blinked in and out of focus.

There he was looming before her, the blurry image hovering like some dark angel. She tried to recall what had happened with the blue angels and the lopsided car and the sirens and…

“Oh my god, what happened?” Eve jolted up in the bed, instant pain shooting down her neck and to her back. The machine sped up its beats. “Please turn it off,” she moaned, grabbing tubes. It hurt to pull them, hurt to touch anything. She let go. It hurt to rise. Everything hurt.

“Never. Not until I know you’re safe and even after that”-

“I’m in heaven aren’t I? I didn’t know it was real. I didn’t believe. Is this bad? I wasn’t sure. I”-

“Eve, calm down. You’re not dead.”

The machine continued to speed up.

“I’m not religious either,” Eve breathed. “Is it too late to convert? Do you think heaven would have me?”

“It’s never too late to try,” his gaze was far away and maybe Roman was thinking how it was already too late for him.

There he was again his hand pressed against her cheek. Warm. Comforting. Everything he wasn’t in real life.

One coin. Two sides.

“This isn’t real.”

“It is. Give it a moment.”

Eve did and more pain hit her.

The room was a light of harsh clarity and ugly white. She never believed white could be so ugly. “What happened?” Eve sat up further this time with caution. Roman was right. This wasn’t a dream. Only he was caring and everything she never believed he could be. Is this what it took? A crash? His face came into focus.

She saw the damage. There were three stitches on his cheek. His bottom lip was cut with dried blood. “Who did this to you?” Eve sat up. The pain was like a memory. Moving was fine once she remembered how to. Roman looked down away from her searching eyes, avoiding them. 

“I lost control of the car,” he said. “It happened so fast. Thank god it was on the turn off. The car spun into a field.”

“Oh my god. And you got hurt because of me”-

“No. Eve it was my fault.”

“It was mine.” She turned to the room. They were alone. “What am I doing here I feel fine.”

“You had a few bumps and bruises. I insisted. You passed out. They couldn’t be sure whether it was the alcohol. There was a lot in your system.”

“How long have I been out?”

“A few hours.”

“You stayed?” Eve’s voice lifted a margin. She’d been here hours and he’d stayed. Her head was foggy, somewhere there was hope, that same naïve hope belonging to her old self was returning. She couldn’t help it. 

“Eve,” his tone fell a little. His shoulders slumped. “This is the reason we’re not good for each other. You’ll give me everything. And I”-Her eyes wet with the oncoming rejection. “I’ll only disappoint you. I can’t give you everything. I’ll only hurt you.”

“No, please,” Eve wiped at her cheeks. She must look like hell in pale scrubs and alabaster skin dotted in black and blue bruises, none of which she felt anymore.

The nurse walked in a moment later. “Oh good you’re awake, how are you feeling?” she was surprisingly chipper given the mood. “You were very lucky you know.”

Eve nodded feeling numbed to her core, despite the pain.

“I think Miss Allure will be needing some pain medication,” Roman said.

“Does it hurt dear?” said the nurse. Eve nodded her head like a petulant child. She couldn’t tell whether the pain was physical or emotional. Her body was wrought. Torn. One second fine, the next bereft.

The nurse pulled out a syringe. “This should help you sleep and take away the pain.” She emptied the syringed into the tube attached to the transparent bag hanging next to the bed. “This should only take a few minutes. You should feel yourself starting to drift off soon.” The nurse placed a tender hand on Eve’s forehead. For a moment she was transported back to when her mother was alive.

“But the noise of the machine”-

“You’ll get used to it,” the nurse pulled back Eve’s pillows and lowered her into the bed with delicate hands. Eve didn’t want to shut the world out, knowing Roman Pierce would leave her any second. The drugs acted fast, against her will. She moaned, a tear sliding down her cheek. Eve shut her eyes although it felt like only for a moment. She couldn’t tell when next she woke up only to see that Roman Pierce was no longer there.

45

She woke to an empty room.
Alone.
The machine beeped rhythmically though her heart felt like it had come to a stop. He was gone, again. So much had happened. So much had transpired since she’d first taken that job as a temp, since she’d taken the phone call that would change the rest of her life.

If things had been different.
If-

“Eve,” said a familiar voice and for a moment her chest lifted. A moment.

“Oh it’s you,” her neck cricked.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t who you wanted me to be,” Trigger said. There was a resigned sadness in his face that made him look deathly pale in the light. He appeared older than she remembered. Seeing him here was like seeing Roman, it felt like an eternity even though he still had a part to play in her life, more so than anyone else, even if she was avoiding him.

There was a connection between them she couldn’t explain, though she tried hard to ignore it. Dangerous waters. It was so tangible as it hung between them and yet she didn’t have a name for it. Static. Trigger would always be a controversy and off limits,
so
off limits. “What happened?” he sat down on the side of her bed.

“Car accident.”

“No shit. Eve, what really happened?” he leaned in and tucked back a strand of her hair, the touch awakening her senses pulling the machine and its beeping into stronger clarity. Her head fell down to her chest, her fingers intertwined.

“He’s gone.” Roman had left, like he always would. “I failed. I can’t do this.”

They’d been down this road already, every time she said it, each time her words were more resolute than the last. One day she would really mean it.

“Shh,” his hand stroked her cheek. He leaned in closer. “Don’t worry about all that for the time being. Worry about yourself. How did this happen?” Eve’s eyes brimmed suddenly and she opened her mouth. “Better yet, don’t tell me,” Trigger held up a hand. She nodded and stared down at her hands in her lap.

His large hand folded over both of hers, encasing her in static warmth. “Does it hurt?” he said. If he was referring to the physical or the emotional pain, both were indistinguishable from each other. She was wracked.

“Yes,” she said. Her heart hurt, the beeping kept on as if to tell her it could be fixed in time. Could it? 

“Let’s work on getting you out of here and I’ll take you home.” He put an arm around her shoulder and she closed her eyes shutting herself down, giving in to him. She wanted badly for it to be Roman telling her everything would be alright. It wouldn’t be, there was no way things could go up from here.

*

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Trigger said as helped her out of the taxi cab. “What kind of single woman lives alone in New York?” she didn’t answer his question as her neck craned up to her apartment, a child in its wake.

They’d sat in utter silence all the way to her building; even the cab driver had had enough sense not to say anything, New York’s blaring lights and car horns hadn’t affected her, white noise trailing like a TV in the background.

The brown brick building was so threatening in the orange glow of the streetlights and the pavements whispered of cold chills and rolling trash. Eve bit down on the inside of her cheek. She wished she wasn’t alone tonight. She wanted Roman.
No.
He would never respect her like she wanted him to and in her weakest moment she’d come to him and he’d turned her away.

“You can’t stay at my place, my neighbours would know, Mrs Partridge would. She sees everything,” Eve swallowed the thought. Not that it mattered now anyway. If Mrs Partridge had seen Roman or Trigger it wouldn’t make a difference. Roman wasn’t a part of her life anymore. Still the very idea of Trigger staying in her place…

“I can take you to my place,” his gaze fixed on her. “If you trust me.” His eyes implored something more. There was a depth there she hadn’t ever felt she should explore but did she trust Trigger? Did she really trust him?

Eve swallowed down her fears. She nodded as he helped her back into the taxi.

Trigger’s place was an apartment in the centre of the city overlooking Centennial Park. The taxi took them to the front of a building set in luminous glass and abstract paintings. Trigger nodded to the security guard as they went through and swiped in a key card to the elevator.

“It’s only a few floors, not like our building. I know you’re afraid of heights.” Eve shifted from foot to foot; she couldn’t remember having told him.

They’d ridden the elevator together many times. He’d noticed. Not many did. Trigger swiped the same key card into a black square door once they got out of the elevator. It opened onto to a vast space of black glass looking out to the New York skyline. The city was alive in fire whites and gold’s amidst a midnight sky.

“How can you afford to live here?” Eve said. She stepped through knowing she’d said another dumb thing.

He laughed. “I am CEO.”

Eve walked up to the glass and pressed her fingers against it smudging instantly. She yanked down her sleeve and wiped it away.

“Sorry, I won’t touch anything,” she backed away from the glass.

“Touch whatever you like,” Trigger stood apart from her. She felt his eyes on her as she studied the skyline and met his gaze in the reflection of the glass.

The hospital had dismissed her with aches and bruises and pain killers. They said she’d gotten a lucky break.
Yeah right
, she felt so lucky right now.

She turned back to him. “I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience.” Her attention cast down, her fingers intertwining.

“You’re not an inconvenience,” Trigger stepped in front of her a smile lilting in place.

Eve was afraid to look into his eyes, afraid she’d want so much more. She shouldn’t want Trigger, he was her tie to the blackmailers and the reason she was in this mess in the first place. She was just a temp. He was out of her league. She backed away.

“The guest bedroom is down the hall and to your right,” Trigger said. “Do you need anything, a change of clothes?”

“Can I borrow a shirt?” Eve bit her lip.

Trigger came back a moment later with a cotton shirt in one hand. “I had some toothbrushes left over before I changed to electric,” he handed her a brush. “I’ll see you in the morning?” his long fingers lingered on her hand.

Eve swallowed and nodded. “Till the morning.” She forced herself to walk away and down the hall where the guest bedroom was. It was an en-suite dripping in soft creams and minimalistic touches of colour with floor to ceiling windows leading out to the park and the city beyond it. The room was big enough to be a master bedroom in any other place except this one. Trigger had taken to the stairs, probably sleeping directly above her this very second.

Eve got into the bed; the shirt was loose on her and smelled of lavender. Trigger often smelled of lavender. She rolled over and scrunched her eyes clinging to the blanket for safety. Between Trigger and Roman, she was swimming in dangerous waters.

*

“Morning,” Trigger said as he flipped the pancake in the air.

Eve sat down at the kitchen bar on a high stool. Her head pounded even after the fluids she’d been given in the hospital. Her mouth was dry and she probably had that sticky white saliva that stuck to her mouth when she slept.

“I’ve never seen anyone flip one of those before,” was all she could say.

His brow shot up. “Today’s your lucky day.”

She groaned. “I feel like crap.”

“You look quite sexy.” Eve blushed down at her top; it was the grey t-shirt Trigger had given to her last night. “It’s not everyday a woman wakes up in my apartment wearing one of my shirts.”

She turned a deep fuchsia. “You’re starting to sound like him.” Her voice was empty, killing the mood suddenly. “Do I have time to shower?”

Trigger was primed in soft beige slack pants and a light woolly jumper. His hair was shower fresh gold spilling over his ears. His eyes were incandescent in the light of day. Waking up in Trigger’s apartment had been an eye opener. In the daylight things weren’t as black and white as they seemed in the darkness. There was colour flecked about in soft brown furnishings and potted plants.

“You play the piano?” she said. A grand slate grey piano stood in the far corner against morning grey buildings and flecks of ever green Park.

“Not in a long time, I broke part of my hand a few years ago. It hasn’t been the same since,” Trigger turned away busying with the frypan. “I was stupid enough to think I could box and play piano.”

Eve walked back down the hallway to her en-suite and shower. What was she still doing here? She should leave. She could only get involved with one guy. And it couldn’t be Trigger. And if she couldn’t have Roman then…

She left later that day in a taxi and arrived back to her apartment block. She hadn’t told Trigger what had happened last night and he didn’t appear in the mood to push her. Good. She didn’t have it in her to tell him she’d failed again. Especially given she was losing more than just her dignity, things had changed, escalated. Her heart fluttered every time she thought of Roman.

What could she do? He didn’t want her and she…well-

*

The flowers came the next day, hoards and hoards of them. A thousand tulips in every colour imaginable stuffed into her tiny apartment and a single note attached to one of them.

I’m sorry. Rome

That was it?! In only a few words, so much had to be said. Where to begin?
I’m sorry.

She laughed out loud in a choke. What a pitiful response to her broken heart. What was he actually sorry for? Breaking her heart? Staying away from her? Going their separate ways? Or was he sorry for ever having met her? For letting her go down on him in the car without out which the accident would never have happened?

Eve shuddered back the tears. There was no use crying. Many woman had already cried over Roman Pierce in the past.

She wouldn’t be the first and she definitely wouldn’t be the last. She tore up the note. If she could afford it she’d send all of the flowers back.

They were here and there was nothing she could do about it except have them as a reminder why she couldn’t be with Roman Pierce.